


Sound

by PussNHikingBoots



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Night Terrors, Suicidal Thoughts, Thoughts of Self-harm, double, mentions only of Jessica Whitly Ainsley Whitly Gil Arroyo, self deprecation, there's a double?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PussNHikingBoots/pseuds/PussNHikingBoots
Summary: Malcolm has another night terror, but it scares him more than the usual.There's mental breakdown kind-of stuff and two females to comfort him.(that sounds sexier than it is. there's no sex. don't be disappointed)
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & Original Female Character(s), Malcolm Bright & Sunshine the Bird
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of a fill for this prompt from Ponderosa:
> 
> Malcolm/subconscious!Malcolm; SELFCEST  
> The version of Malcolm's subconscious that manifests in The Trip comes back when he's high/dreaming/whatever and seduces him.
> 
> This is just a preamble to actually filling that prompt. (There will be a followup story)
> 
>   
> I'm not a mental health professional, so chances are, I got some stuff wrong.  
> I don't think too much about it, I just follow the muse.

“No. Don’t. Don’t open it.”

He’s been dreaming about the girl in the box for weeks now, so it’s no surprise that it’s happening again. His 10-year-old self is wearing a blue bathrobe and holding a cup of hot chocolate, moving closer to the box in the basement. There are noises coming from within. Malcolm knows the girl will be inside when his child self opens the trunk. He knows he will wake up screaming. But he can’t change the script. Little Malcolm calls for his dad, but Dad is not around. The box is too compelling. The boy walks forward, a little scared and overwhelmingly curious. He has to know what’s inside.

“No. Don’t. Don’t open it.”

But the child pays no heed to Malcolm’s warning and carefully lifts the lid. Malcolm sees…

_himself._

”Let me out,” the man in the box whispers. The child slams the lid shut, and Malcolm wakes up screaming.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

All the usual elements are there: straining against the restraints, spitting out the mouthguard, the screaming, the panic, the heavy breathing and heart racing. But this morning, it is worse. So much worse. Maybe it’s because he’s been getting much less sleep than usual, maybe it’s because his team hasn’t had a decent case in weeks to keep his mind occupied. Seeing his own face in that box shakes Malcolm to the core.

But it hardly matters. It’s morning, and that means morning routine. Even though it’s Saturday, and he’s not going into the office, Malcolm still maintains his morning routine every single day. He unshackles his wrists and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He should be pushing himself off the bed, but his body isn’t cooperating. So he sits there for a long, long moment, trying to clear the muddled thoughts in his head. He feels really very wrong, and he doesn’t know why or exactly how bad it is. He steels himself to finally get up to use the bathroom and then walk to the kitchen to sit down at the counter and take his meds.

He lines up the bottles on the countertop, opening all of the lids. Tipping the first one so that a single pill falls into his hand, he stares at that pill before carefully cupping his palm and letting it slide back into the canister. He takes a good hard look at all of the bottles in front of him. He counts them: one, two, three, four, five. He counts them backwards: five, four, three, two, one. He tips each one towards him to see how many pills are left. He arranges each lid neatly in front of each bottle. He stands up, grits his teeth, and backhands the entire line as hard as he can, sending the bottles flying off the counter, pills skittering across the floor.

He leans forward, gripping the countertop hard to keep his hands from shaking. He watches the last of the pills spinning on their axes before falling still. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mutters, moving around the counter with the intention to pick up as many pills as he can find and return them to their rightful places. He’s crawling around on the floor on his hands and knees, retrieving bottles and pills. He picks up a pill and downs it. Then reaches for another and starts to down that one before realizing that he has no idea which one he just took. Fuck. Now what?

At that moment, it comes to his attention that his bird is chirping loudly and jumping around on her perch, no doubt alarmed by his unusual behavior. He drops operation pill retrieval and stands up to go towards her cage. “Oh, no. No, Sunshine. It’s fine. It’s fine.” He starts to open the cage, but then pulls his hand back, his big eyes going wider. She’s mad at him. She hates him. He can see her glaring at him in disdain. He backs away from the cage, one hand clamped over his mouth, tears welling up in his eyes.

He shakes his head to try to refocus. He needs to get a hold of himself. Morning routine. Morning routine. He’s pretty sure he still has parts of it to do, but he can’t remember where he is in the sequence. How come there’s no music playing? Doesn’t his morning routine always start with music? He walks back towards his room to turn the stereo on, but before he can press the button, he hears something coming from the bedroom.

He goes stock still, listening for any movement. Is there an intruder? Did somebody break in? He walks slowly and silently back towards his room, heart thudding. There it is again! A voice- a whisper, really- that seems to be coming from the very far corner of his bedroom, though he can’t see anyone there. He thinks about grabbing one of his knives out of the display case, but that would require unlocking it, and there’s probably no time. Instead, he picks up a heavy Buddha statue sitting on his dresser and moves further into the room towards the back corner, ducking his head to quickly check underneath the bed.

“Who are you? Get out of my house!“ Malcolm holds the statue up at the ready. The whisper is getting louder, but he still doesn’t see anything. As he gets closer to the corner of the room, the words become distinct.

_Let me out. Let me out._

Malcolm’s blood runs ice cold. A familiar voice. His own. Familiar words. An audio hallucination based on a dream. OK. He’s had those before. He can deal with this.

_Let me out. You know you want to._

No, he can’t. Malcolm runs to the bathroom and locks himself in, sliding down the door onto the floor. His whole body is shaking. Just an audio hallucination. It’s not real. It’s not real.

Malcolm decides he needs to take a shower right now. Not only is it part of his morning routine, but he knows that night terrors don’t survive showers. If there’s any chance that the voice double is still in his bedroom, the shower will surely drive it away. He’s lightning quick under the water, forgetting most of how this washing thing works, but it’s good enough. He gives a cursory pat down of about 50% of his parts, wraps the towel around his waist, and goes back to the bedroom to thoroughly check all of the corners, even though the open-concept layout of his apartment means just about every area of his bedroom is on display, even from the kitchen. There’s nothing there. He stands still and listens carefully. No voice. He checks the rest of the apartment. Nothing. Thank God, the shower worked.

He should probably finish his morning routine. Did he take his medications yet? He can’t remember. He didn’t wrap the towel very snuggly around his waist and after all that walking around, it finally unravels and falls to the floor. He stares at it for a moment. Maybe he should get dressed? He turns around, leaving the towel where it is, then walks back to the bedroom. It takes him a while to pick out which underwear and sweatpants he should wear. He’s not sure why, but the decision seems very important, and he’s afraid he might choose incorrectly. He ends up with black boxer briefs and navy blue sweatpants. Hopefully, it’s the right choice. He forgets to put a shirt on.

He sits down on his bed to think. He tries, he really tries, but it’s so difficult. He sees an image of the pills scattering over the floor. He thinks he probably only took one or two and should go take the rest. Maybe he should gather them all up and take them all. Would it hurt? With his luck, it would make him horribly sick. Increase his pain, rather than end it. He sees himself in the box in the basement. His heart rate accelerates. He could drink a lot of alcohol first. Before taking all those pills. Probably wouldn’t feel anything that way. He’s got any number of antique weapons to choose from. That would be…poetic…but messy. He couldn’t bear to think of somebody else cleaning up after him.

“Stop it! Stop it!” he shouts out loud, gripping his hair on either side of his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He made a promise to himself long ago that he would never let himself go down that road.

_Let me out. You know you want to._

Malcolm jerks his head up, eyes darting around to find the source of the voice.

He stands up and starts pacing, but it feels like he’s walking through molasses. Everything feels too slow, disorienting. He can’t remember what his daily affirmation is. Did he even look at one this morning? What he knows for sure at this point is that he shouldn’t be alone. He picks up his phone and sits back down on the bed.

The first person he thinks to call is Gil. After the third ring, he remembers that Gil is out of town for the weekend, visiting family. No doubt having an enjoyable time. Malcolm has no right to ruin that. He hangs up. Ainsley is at a journalist conference in Washington DC. Maybe she’s available. He can try.

Ainsley picks up on the second ring. “Hey bro. What’s up?“

“Hi. Um-“

“Oh my God, remember when I was bitching about coming to this thing because I thought it might be boring? I was so wrong. I am having _so much fun!_ There are a _ton_ of people here that are big-time. I mean, with the right connections, this can really help my career. Can’t talk long because we’re just meeting for breakfast. Oh, there’s Wade Peterson. I _have_ to go talk to him. Sorry. Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

She hangs up, and Malcolm is left feeling emptier than before he made the call. Breakfast? What time is it? He looks, and it is barely 8 AM. Maybe that’s why Gil didn’t answer. Will anybody answer this early? He could call his mother, but that’s a last resort. First, she’ll berate him for waking her up. Then she’ll tell him to snap out of it and that he’s being a baby. Not very helpful. He calls Gil. On the second ring he remembers that Gil is out of town and hangs up.

That leaves Dani and Maddie. Both of them are excellent at putting up with his endless variety of crap. Both of them are probably still in bed. But he has to work with Dani, and he has a little crush on her. Does he really want her to see him like this? She has seen him at some low points, but this one is pretty bad, and he can’t even explain to her why it’s happening.

He should call his therapist for an emergency appointment. He knows that she will accommodate him on the weekend. He calls Madison instead.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Four rings and she picks up, voice groggy. Usually, he just texts her, so if he’s calling, maybe it’s important, and if he’s calling her at this ungodly hour? “Malcolm?”

There’s a moment of silence and then, “Um... Hi?” It comes out as a question.

She was laying in bed with her eyes still closed, but now they pop open, and she sits up. There’s something wrong. She can hear it in his voice. “What’s going on, Malcolm? Are you OK?” she asks him as calmly as she can.

“OK. I... Um... I’m not... I don’t know.“

She takes a breath. “Malcolm, where are you?“

“Home.“

She’s relieved to hear that, at least. Especially after that horrifying incident with John Watkins. If he’s home, then he’s probably safe. Unless...

“Are you alone or is there somebody there with you?“

“Alone. But I...”

“But you what?“

It takes him some time to answer. “Shouldn’t be.“

Her heart pounds with renewed alarm. “Shouldn’t be alone? Malcolm, what’s happening? Are you upset about something?”

“Upset?“

Oh, this does not sound good at all. One word answers, flat affect. She’s really worried now. “Malcolm, please tell me what’s going on. Did something happen?“

“Happen?”

She swallows. She’s afraid to ask, but she can hear it in his voice so she _has_ to ask. “Are you… Are you thinking of hurting yourself?”

Another long pause. “Maybe?“

Oh, shit, shit, shit! She has to get over there and quick. She does some sloppy calculations. She needs to take a shower and get dressed. She needs to throw some stuff in an overnight bag, because it sounds like it’s going to be one of those days. And call her friends to cancel her evening plans. She can do that later from his place. It’s way too early to call anybody right now. She needs to eat something, too. She usually keeps a kefir or other drinkable breakfast in the fridge just in case she wakes up too late to make a proper breakfast. This is definitely a just-in-case situation. Hopefully she still has something in the fridge. She should also bring some snacks or maybe even some real food because Lord knows he won’t have anything there. Or she could pick something up for both of them at Grand Central. She settles on a safe ‘both.’ By the time she drives to the train station and takes New Jersey Transit across to New York City, and even if she takes a cab to his place instead of the usual walk, she’s looking at at least…

“I can be there in about an hour and a half, two hours.“ She hears him give a half hearted whiney little “oh” on the other end. Fuck. She needs to do better than that. She doesn’t know much about this kind of thing, but she knows his personality. She needs to keep him occupied until she can get there. Necessity being the mother of invention, she’s struck with the clarity of an idea.

She asks him a few more irrelevant questions just to keep him talking while she goes to her computer and looks up a store’s opening hours. 9 AM. It’s just after eight. Takes 40 minutes to walk there from his place. She needs to keep him on the phone for at least 15 more minutes. She spends about half of that just rambling to him about anything she can think of to pass the time. Ideally, she would love to take a shower and call him back afterward, but she’s not sure if she can trust him to pick up again. Finally, finally, the clock turns to 8:14 AM. Good enough.

“Listen to me carefully, Malcolm,“ she says, praying that her idea will work. “Do you remember that toy store we went to the day we were coming back from the pool hall?“

“I remember.”

“OK. Good. Do you remember where it is? Do you think you would be able to find it if you walked there?“

“Yes. Yes, I can find it.“

“OK, do you remember the little clockwork cat with the colored enamel that I was looking at that I really liked?“

“Yes! I remember that.“ He brightens up at the thought.

“OK, good. Here’s what you’re going to do.“ She’s about to tell him to go to that store, but it occurs to her that she needs to dumb this way, way down. “Do you have shoes on?“

He looks down at his feet. “No. Just sweatpants and no socks.“

“OK. Put some socks on and put your shoes on. I’ll wait for you.“

“OK.“ After a moment, she hears him shuffling around. It seems to take a really long time for him to put his socks and shoes on. Good. The longer it takes, the more likely she is to get the timing she needs to make this work. If he makes it to the store, but it’s not open yet, it could be disastrous. She’s got her eye on the clock, and why isn’t it moving faster? Meanwhile, she is scrambling around her apartment, throwing stuff into a bag, trying to concentrate on what she needs to tell him and what she needs to bring at the same time, writing down any to-do thoughts that strike her in the moment so she won’t forget.

“Are your socks and shoes on?”

“Yes.”

“OK. Now put your jacket on.”

“Oh. Alright.”

She waits a few moments. At his next ‘OK,’ she assumes he has a jacket on.

“Great. And your wallet. Grab your wallet and take it with you.“

“OK. I have it. I have my wallet.“

“Now, listen very carefully. I want you to leave your apartment and walk down to that toy store that we went to. I want you to go into the store and buy me one of those little cats. The purple one. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?“

“Walk down…“ She’s holding her breath while he processes what she just said. “Purple Cat.“

She repeats the instructions just as carefully and slowly as the first time. “Can you do that for me?“

“OK.“

“After you’re done, walk back to your apartment. Don’t take a cab or the subway or anything else. It’s very important that you walk down and walk back. Do you understand?”

“OK.”

“When you get back home, I will be waiting for you.” Just in case, she adds, “Or at least very close by,” because she absolutely cannot disappoint him even the slightest bit right now. If you want to call me at any time while you’re walking or in the store or anything, call me. I’ll pick up. Well, not in the next 15 minutes, though. I’ll be in the shower.”

“OK.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Almost two hours later, Malcolm arrives back at his apartment, and Madison is there waiting for him. She is so relieved to see him, she wants to throw her arms around him, but she does not know what his current state is just yet. All she can tell is that he’s walking kind of slowly and he looks a little dazed.

He walks up to her and lifts a plastic bag out towards her. “I couldn’t remember what color you said. So I got all three. I’m sorry. I couldn’t remember. Is it OK? Did I do it right?”

His desperate need for approval is going to break her heart right then and there. She takes the bag and makes a little show of looking inside. “You did perfect,“ she says, “I’ll take the purple one. You can choose a color for yourself, and we will give the third one to Ainsley. It’s absolutely perfect.”

He gives what amounts to less than half a smile and seems very relieved. She hooks her arm around his and leads him to open the door, walk up the stairs, and enter his place.

He takes off his shoes and jacket, and she sees that he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath the jacket. Not something she even considered asking about over the phone. Good thing he was already wearing pants.

“I- I’m sorry for bothering you,” he says, “You shouldn’t have to take care of me twice in one month.” He sounds miserable.

“Nonsense,” she assures him, “you’re not a bother. I’m glad you called me.”

He heads straight for the couch and lays down on his side, both of his hands in prayer position tucked under his head, eyes open and staring at nothing. She sets her stuff down and looks around the familiar loft to see if anything looks amiss. She doesn’t see anything, but she hears Sunshine chattering up a storm. She goes to check on the bird and sees that Malcolm has not fed her anything this morning, and there’s only a tiny bit of water left. Madison takes care of Sunshine and leaves the door open in case she wants to come out of her cage. Maybe it will make Malcolm feel better if his little bird volunteers to hang out with him.

She starts walking back to the couch, when her foot sends something rattling across the floor. It’s a pill container. That’s curious. She bends down to pick it up, and that’s when she notices some pills scattered about. Not just one type either. Did he drop his pills? All of them? Did he try to take them? Did he take the ones he was supposed to take this morning or did he take more than he should have? Maybe he threw them on the floor?

Images of dialing 911 flashing through her head, she runs back to the couch and kneels in front of him. “Did you take any pills today?“

“I think one. Maybe two. I can’t remember.”

“OK, but not more than two?“

“Probably one?“

She sits back on her heels, relieved. “Are they all on the floor?“

“Except probably for one.“ Well, gosh, at least he still has humor in there somewhere.

“I’ll pick them up.”

She goes back to the kitchen and picks up as many pills as she can find as quickly as she can. For now, she just dumps them all in a bowl and throws a kitchen towel over it in case Sunshine gets any ideas. She figures she can sort them later and maybe ask him which bottles they belong in. But for now, she really wants to get back to Malcolm.

She arranges her things within arm’s reach of where she will be sitting on the couch, dropping her bag by her feet for easy access. She’s brought some work along and a novel she’s reading. She puts the food in the fridge for later and leaves the snacks within reach. She gets both of them a glass of water from the kitchen, then grabs a blanket in case one or both of them gets cold. Then she uses the bathroom for good measure and hopes she isn’t forgetting anything. She sits down on the couch next to where his head is resting, making a point to tell him about the glass of water. He doesn’t say anything, but shifts his position so that the top of his head and the backs of his curled knuckles push up against the side of her thigh. She pets his hair and rubs his bare upper arm with her right hand, and settles in to read with her left.

They sit like that in silence while she tries to think of what to ask him, how to ask, if she should ask. Or maybe she should just let him speak if he wants to and not push him. Or maybe she should tell him a story and not worry about whatever is going on in his head at present. She has read the same paragraph in her book now probably 10 times and still doesn’t know what it says. Finally she puts the book down and just sits with him. It’s disturbing how devoid of emotion he is. She wishes he would scream or cry or something. But all he does is stare straight ahead.

_Let me out._

She startles when he suddenly clamps his hand to his ear, moans, and curls in on himself.

“Bright, what’s happening? Are you in pain?”

He doesn’t understand why she’s asking him that. Shouldn’t she be wondering where the voice came from? He settles down as she strokes his hair. Audio hallucination. Of course. She doesn’t hear it. It’s only for him.

Whatever that was, it seems to have passed, and he’s back to the way he was a moment ago. She ventures to ask, “Would you like some water?“ He doesn’t answer.

“Is there anything you want to tell me about? You don’t have to, but if you want to…“ He doesn’t answer, but he does press more firmly against her, and she feels like he’s asking for something. She’s just not entirely sure what.

Malcolm wonders what he must look like curled up on the couch next to Madison. He wants to tell her so many things. He wants to tell her about the dream. But he can’t seem to get anything out of his mouth. His bare torso feels shivery with the air hitting it, and a wave of touch-starvation flows through his being. He wants her to wrap her entire body around his, but he doesn’t know how to ask for that. He’s hoping she will figure it out, and it takes a tremendous effort for him to push his body closer into hers.

She curls over to the side to get closer to him, running her hand up and down his arm. “What is it, baby? What do you need?” The only answer is his hand tugging lightly at the thigh of her pant leg. “You wanna cuddle?” She gets an almost imperceptible nod at that. “OK. You’re going to have to sit up first so I can lay down. Why don’t you drink some water while you’re at it.“ She thinks it is very important for him to drink water because knowing him, he hasn’t eaten or drank anything yet today. That’s probably contributing to the mess that he’s currently in.

With some awkward maneuvering and a lot of encouragement, she gets him to sit up. She tries handing him the glass but he doesn’t move to take it. Remembering her initial idea for the walk to the toy store, she tries a different tact. “Malcolm, I want you to drink some water.“ She thrusts the glass into his hand, and though she has to steady it with her own hand and help him tip it towards his mouth, he does drink. In fact, he ends up downing the entire thing.

Satisfied, she sets the empty glass back on the table, and stretches her full length out on the couch, pulling a pillow underneath her head, and then reaching her arms up to pull him down on top of her. He falls softly onto her with a sigh, borrowing his head into her pillowy bosom and twining his limbs like vines.

The relief is instant. If she weren’t wearing a shirt, the heat of her would be even better, but at least he can feel a warm body against his. The water infiltrating his dehydrated cells feels like sparkles. He marvels at how she knew to give him water.

Then Sunshine is there. She peeps at them both, hopping along Madison’s arm and then Malcolm’s and back again. Fluffing out her wings and giving a shake of her little head. Malcolm smiles at her and sniffles. She must have forgiven him. He doesn’t deserve it, but he’s happy about it.

Madison grips Malcolm back just as tightly as he is gripping at her. If sorrows shared are halved, she’s hoping to absorb some of his. She has so many questions for him, and she wishes that he would talk. Tell her how this happened. Tell her what he’s feeling. Instead, she starts humming a tune they had sung together at a karaoke night months ago, and the humming turns into very soft singing.

_“Now Leroy he a gambler_

_And he like his fancy clothes_

_And he like to wave his diamond rings_

_In front of everybody's nose”_

To her surprise, Malcolm lifts his head and squints at her, the first expression he’s made today that isn’t a grimace. She hesitates for just a moment, but then continues and is surprised and elated when she sees him following her lips with his lips, partially and soundlessly mouthing along with the words.

_“He got a custom Continental_

_He got an Eldorado too_

_He got a thirty two gun in his pocket for fun_

_He got a razor in his shoe”_

At the chorus, he’s mouthing all of the words correctly, and every now and then, low-level sound is coming out, too.

_“And he’s bad, bad Leroy Brown_

_Baddest man in the whole damned town_

_Badder than old King Kong_

_And meaner than a junkyard dog”_

Then unexpectedly, he hoists his body up just enough to be able to fix his lips on Madison’s, silencing her singing with a kiss. She’s shocked, but considers it a very good sign and holds his head against hers, ignoring how obvious it is that he has yet to brush his teeth today. After an indulgent moment, she gently lifts his head away with a grip to his hair and looks at him with soft, questioning eyes. The eyes that look back at her are his again. The glaze is gone, replaced by the sheen of tears and behind that, a familiar heavy dose of pain.

He seems to be apologizing for the kiss when he says, “It- It feels good? I just want to feel good. Just for a moment.“ She blinks and nods and pulls him back towards her to resume kissing, with the wry thought that, surely, it’s the _least_ she can do to help him.

_Let me out. Let me out._

_You know you want this. You know you want us._

Next thing she knows, he’s scrambling off the couch, hands over his ears, muttering, “No, no, no. Go away! Stop!“ Before she can ask him what’s going on, he runs into the bathroom and slams the door shut. Now she’s scared again, confused and crestfallen. She thought that he had made so much progress, but now it seems like he’s going backwards.

She tries the bathroom door, but it’s locked. So she resorts to calling his name from the other side, begging him to please open it up and talk to her.

The front door buzzer sounds. “Malcolm, are you expecting somebody?” She’s doesn’t wait for his non-response.

She goes to the door and presses the intercom button. “Hello, who is it?“

There is a considerable pause before she hears, “Detective Dani Powell. I’m checking on Malcolm Bright. Who am I speaking with, please?”

“Dani! Hang on. I’m coming down.” Madison could buzz her up, but instead she runs down the stairs and flings open the door. “Dani!” She gives her a quick appraisal, “Oh! Malcolm wasn’t kidding. You _are_ gorgeous!”

Dani gives a blushing little smile. “Um…thank you. And you are?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’m Madison. I’m his friend. Well, Ainsley‘s friend. And Malcolm‘s.“

“My boss sent me to check on him. He worries too much. Is Malcolm OK?”

“I’m so glad you’re here. He’s not doing so well. He just ran into the bathroom.”

Madison grabs Dani by the arm and pulls her through the door, leading her up the stairs. Dani’s first instinct is to pull away and clock this bitch, but she recognizes that Madison means no harm and is probably stressed out by whatever situation Gil sent Dani to check in on. “Not doing so well? Is he sick? I haven’t spoken to him and my boss hasn’t either. We’re both in the dark.”

“Not sick. He’s depressed, maybe? I’m not sure what to call it. He hasn’t been himself all day. Mostly just staring into space and not talking. Then he freaked out and locked himself in the bathroom.”

Now Dani’s voice is full of concern. “Do you think he’s going to hurt himself? Tell me what’s going on?”

“Honestly, I don’t think he would as long as somebody is here with him. Just five minutes ago, he started to perk up. He was doing a lot better than he was all morning. Until just now.” She describes his behavior as best she can.

The two women stand by the bathroom door. Madison knocks softly, “Malcolm, Dani’s here. She came to check on you. Will you open the door, sweetheart?”

From the other side, there’s a quiet, “Dani’s here?” It sounds like he might be sitting on the floor right up against the door.

Dani takes over. “Bright, it’s Dani. Gil sent me. He was really worried after he saw that you called a few times but didn’t leave a message.”

Malcolm is sitting on the tile with his back to the door and his knees drawn up against his body. He hears Dani’s voice and drops his head into his hands in shame. Why did he call Gil? That was so stupid. Now, he’s gone and worried _two_ other people, unnecessarily. Not to mention that not only has Madison canceled her weekend plans for him, but Dani probably has, too. He feels so selfish and wonders why anybody would go out of their way on a Saturday afternoon to make sure his dumb ass is alive.

“Bright, we’re both worried about you. Will you please open the door? I mean, unless you’re actually using the bathroom,” adds Dani. When there’s no answer, Dani says to Madison, “We’ll give him one minute. If he doesn’t come out, I’m going in.”

Madison is so relieved that the detective is there. From the stories she’s heard, Dani is a kick-ass cop who can take care of business. Madison has no idea how to bust a door down and thinks she would probably dislocate something if she tried.

“Time’s up, Bright. Open the door. You’ve got 10 seconds, then I’m coming in there.”

They hear shuffling from the other side, and Dani is sure he’s going to open the door himself, but there’s nothing after that.

“Bright? Malcolm? Open the door.” Still nothing. Finally, Dani gets out her wallet, pulls out a couple of bobby pins, and Madison watches in fascination as she deftly goes to work on the lock. Madison considers that she wouldn’t know how to pick a lock to save her life, and stifles a laugh when she thinks, ‘or his.’ Dani opens the door slowly and carefully. Malcolm is standing up, facing the door, giving them enough room for it to open. Dani gives him a once-over, her eyes automatically going to his wrists and forearms. Her shoulders slump with relief when she realizes he’s physically OK.

Malcolm nearly knocks Dani over when he rushes at her and throws his arms around her. He sobs into her shoulder briefly, muttering something about how she shouldn’t have come. Then just as quickly, he pushes away from her, and goes to the couch, sitting smack in the middle as if he is inviting both of them to sit on either side. The women oblige, flanking him, and each taking one of his hands in their’s.

He turns his head towards Madison on his left, “I’m really sorry, Maddie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She rubs his forearm with the hand not holding his. “I’m just glad you’re OK now.”

He turns to Dani on his right, “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I ruined your day. I’m happy you’re here, though.“

“This is exactly the kind of thing friends do for each other, Bright. Of course, I’m here.“ He wants to cry at the compassion and caring they are projecting towards him.

Madison thinks that’s such a sweet thing for Dani to say and shakes away her inappropriate thoughts of the three of them. Not the best time to go there, though she files it away as a future idea. “Before you ran into the bathroom, you looked like you had just heard something. You did that earlier, too. What was going on?”

They both sit quietly, waiting for him to answer, which takes a considerable time. “I kind of did hear something. It’s nothing though. It’s fine.”

“Malcolm what is it? What did you hear?” presses Madison.

“It’s just something from a dream I had this morning. No big deal.”

“A dream or a nightmare?” asks Dani.

He worries at his bottom lip before conceding. “Yeah, the latter.”

“So...” Madison decides if he’s willing to tell it, she wants to hear the whole story. “Do you want to tell us what happened? Is this the same nightmare as always? The girl in the box? I thought that went away after...” She fades off, not wanting to bring his dead girlfriend up at a time like this. Dani gives her a look, and Madison dips her head in embarrassment at her faux pas.

But it doesn’t seem to put Malcolm off, now that he’s finally talking. “Actually, it’s sort of the same scenario. It is the girl in the box, except that it’s not a girl this time.” Madison and Dani give each other a trepidatious look.

“I heard a voice coming from the box. I heard it in my dream and I’ve been hearing it on and off all morning.”

“Who’s voice? If it’s not the girl, then who is it?” asks Madison.

He grips both of their hands extra tight and takes a hard swallow, “It’s me.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song they are singing is here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QvwDohEEQ1E
> 
> Check it out cause it's totally toe-tappin' fun, and the 70's, man. Gotta dig it.
> 
> And if you like that one, here's the follow-up (which isn't in the story, but it just as much fun):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtCVElqYMUE
> 
> I just love comments in general, including criticisms, and welcome corrections to grammar and spelling errors.
> 
> July 2020 note:  
> The PS Muse is super-strong these days. Hit me up with a prompt, if you'd like. Anything involving Malcolm Bright and / or Ainsley Whitly.  
> (Brother/Sistercest is fine, but I won't do parent/child incest.)


End file.
